


The Two Backed Beast

by Kalashnikorn



Series: Tales from the Hunt [3]
Category: Mad Max (1979), Mad Max Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:29:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalashnikorn/pseuds/Kalashnikorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roop finds out where scags come from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Two Backed Beast

Here they come again, clad in only my crosshairs for decency. Feral moaning splits the midday lull, a tangle of flesh and limbs writhes before me. A crow flies off, sparing its eyes this unwanted sight. I don’t blame it. Some might be find shame in watching them root in the dirt; others might find pleasure in their antics. I, for one, can’t even dignify this by cracking a fat.

There’s no warmth or care in this, just the primal jackhammering, popping, and slapping of raw meat on meat. They have no modesty to preserve, no more than the horny beasts at the zoo. Only difference is the world needs more lions, tigers, and rhinos.

Her back is arched. His face is twisted. Stroking the trigger, I test its give. The pad of my finger flattens against it, only for me ease off with a shuddering breath. A smile finds it way across my face; my palms dampen with sweat. Not yet, not now. Let the pressure build; it only makes the release that much sweeter. They’re a single undulating mass, metastasizing across the earth. They’re lost in one another, consumed by lust, unaware that blood may be the next bodily fluid upon their worthless hides.

 

Yes, turn that way. Just like that. _Good one. Okay._

Deep breath. I moisten my lips; I brace for recoil. With a twitch of my finger, I could spare the world the trouble of bearing with another goddamn slow-walking, hand-holding pair of sidewalk obstructions, another cackling couple whose sweet nothings somehow mockingly carry all the way to the back of the diner. Done in with a single bullet, no less.

The only soul around for miles happens to be asleep in the Big Bopper. And should he become aware, he’s a smart enough boy to keep his lips sealed. But as my luck would have it, the radio crackled alive, oh-so-urgent voices called for backup. The siren’s call promised better prey. Little did he know, Charlie just spared the life of two scags. He’s a natural at that, really. More harm than help in this line of work.

Yet I can’t help but laugh. Bare arses retreat to the wilderness, no doubt out of fear rather than shame. Perhaps I’ll be seeing them again. In a matter of months, a brood of scaglings could be chewing their way out of their out their host. And if she’s about to bust with spawn, I won’t spare her a dose of lead.

 

Nits make lice.


End file.
